


SHIPS PASSING IN VORBARR SULTANA

by Zoya1416



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU--Twelve years before KOMARR, Ekatarin meets someone exciting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SHIPS PASSING IN VORBARR SULTANA

**Author's Note:**

> The Vorkosigan Saga belongs to Lois McMaster Bujold. I am borrowing these characters.

The first time he met Ekaterin, he nearly knocked her over. He did knock the books out of her arms, and as he bent to pick them up, he noticed that she wrinkled her nose at his smell. Ah, right, he was half drunk already at three o'clock in the afternoon.

“So sorry, miss. I'll carry these for you.” And he teasingly snuggled the books against his side. She frowned at him but did not take them back.

“I'm only going two blocks, and I can carry them.”

“Let me apologize for being clumsy. Lead on.” 

After another frown she did. He noticed her out-of-style clothes and her slight accent, and finally pegged it to the South Continent. He could be social, why wasn't he being social to this tall, dark-haired beauty? He looked at her books.

“Botany, calculus, ecosystems, soil analysis. So—you want to be a botanist?”

She blushed and kept walking.

“No, really, tell me.”

A mumble. “ter a formin'.”

“Terraforming? On the South Continent? Very ambitious.”

“I know I'll have to start out small, with garden designs, probably.”  
She tightened her lips. “Why? Do you think all terraformers have to be hulking and dirty? And what do you do, by the way? What's your goal?”

He started to lie. It was easy to lie, he did all the time. But he glanced at this woman and thought that she would always want the truth.

“I'm not really doing anything now. My family gives me an allowance, and I—basically drink and gossip.”

Oh, this wasn't going to help at all. Goals, goals—did he have any at all? There was one thing he'd idly considered a long time ago. He blurted it out.

“I want to teach dance.”

“You're a dancer?” Now she was looking askance at him, the stumbler.

“Well—yes—socially. I go to a lot of parties and see the people who don't dance looking out of place, and many of those who do dance are awful at it. And I studied dance when I was younger.”

“Well, that's something, anyway. This is my aunt's and uncle's house here. Goodbye.”

Don't let her get away, don't let her go. 

“Wait! Can I take you out for coffee sometime? To apologize for my clumsiness? And let me hear more about your plans for gardens?”

He noticed the fatigue, the blue shadows under her eyes. She'd obviously been working too hard—all those rigorous courses.

“Oh, alright. But I have class all day.”

“You have to eat to keep up your strength. You need lunch. I can bring you lunch. Do you have any food allergies? Salads? Sandwiches? Do you like spice cake or brillberry scones for dessert?

She laughed for the first time. “Surprise me. And I like tea better than coffee.”

He went home, stripped off his clothes and looked at his figure. He was still slim, but his muscles were lax, and his belly was soft. The drinking was taking a toll he hadn't realized. In the next few days, he cleared out his second bedroom, and installed a barre and mirrored wall. It wasn't too hard to relearn the steps to every classical and popular dance, but his endurance was poor. 

He improved in a few weeks, and made the rounds of every dance studio in the city, asking for work. (Which he thought was really beneath a Vor, but he needed to show her he was a serious man.) Finally his cousin put in a word for him, and he was hired as an assistant instructor at an undistinguished, out-of-the-way place.

He accepted as many dance-party invitations as he could, and laughingly showed his partners the proper forms. He switched to drinking mineral water.

 

He courted Ekaterin as he had no other woman, and counted success by the number of times he could make her laugh. She was new to Vorbarr Sultana and hadn't seen any of the sights. He showed her the river, deeper than any she'd seen, and all the most beautiful gardens of the city. 

After three months he told her he loved her. As a surprise, he got invitations to the Emperor's Garden Party, which was held three times a year, spring, summer, and autumn. While they were driving to the Residence in a hired ground car, he casually questioned her.

“What would you do for a garden which has an irregular shape and is in shade most of the time?”

“In that shape little paths would work well. Hostas, ferns. Honeysuckle, hens and chicks, maybe. Something that is rare is plectranthus, and it has beautiful purple blossoms--”

He interrupted her. “Wonderful, wonderful. How about a garden with rocky, poor soil?”

“Um, you can plant lupines in five or six colors; lavender, marigolds, yarrow—which is good for flower arrangements.”

“A swampy, mucky garden?”

“Oh, you can improve drainage with a French drain and gravel, and there are many colors of flags which work; horsetails, marsh iris.”

She concentrated. “But you could also dig out the garden, take advantage of the water, and get a little pond. Water treatments are really nice. Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Because I know the owners of these gardens, and I've heard them complain all the time. They'll be here today.”

She blanched. “These are the High Vor? They aren't going to listen to a student!”

“Oh, I think they will. You can give them tests gardens at half your usual price.”

“But I'm a student! I don't have—”

“Is there a license required for garden design?”

“Well—no. But—I've never done a real garden, just computer sketches.”

“Good. This will be your advertising.”

And against all odds, after admiring the Imperial gardens, and enjoying a glass of wine, some cheese and pastries, she did find herself discussing these problems with the High Vor. Two of them expressed interest, didn't balk at the price he told her to charge, and wanted to see her plans as soon as possible.

He loved to see her so happy. When he drew her into a little bower, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny box. Her breath caught. The ring didn't hold a diamond, but a flower bouquet in gems—tiny rubies, topaz, emeralds—a sapphire at the center.

“Marry me, Ekaterin. I love you so much.”

“I—I—I'm--Yes!”

He gloried in her answer. Yes, yes, all mine. Doesn't she look pretty? Mine, all mine!

The first person they bumped into was a short, intense man whose head seemed a little big for his body, with intelligent eyes.

“Miles!” cried Byerly Vorrutyer. “Meet my fiancee, Ekaterin Vorvayne!”


End file.
